by Lisa Cole
Sneaking wine coolers
And beer cans
Into the theatre
After a day of sobbing into a pillow.
Stifling screams, dreams, seams splitting.
Seems to be a habit, this.
So, the truth,
the theatre: black, clandestine
Guzzle drinking cold.
And she goes.
Would rather be back in dressing rooms,
The closet, the bedrooms, door frames, showers,
But instead, flashing lights, pictures
Familiar voices, stained seats,
More darkness, darkness.
- The Heart as a Geometric Shape
- untitled #3
- untitled #2
- Lament of the Bird
- Hanging with Molly Ringwald the day after the end ...
- IT MADE ME THINK OF YOUR WOODEN LEG
- THE NEW WAR MACHINE
- STRANGE KID IN CLASS
- IMPERFECT WORLD
- Scoville Organoleptic Test
- Maybe Therapy
- Cathouse, The Series
- Facebook Invites
- plea for the consumption of no one
- heroin days
- Wild Unstable Sluts
- ROOMING HOUSES, ABANDONED HOTELS, SARATOGA WINTER
- MONDAY MORNING HOMILY
- Diana and Her Kind
- Germans Can't Dance, Poles Can't Sing
- ▼ February (25)